Falter
by Daniel Jasper
Summary: Severus Snape, Hogwarts' professor, catches a certain raven-haired boy, namely Harry Potter, try to take his life by jumping off the tower wall. [two-shot]
1. Futility

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters.

**A/N: **AU, Sixth Year Harry.

**Warnings: **Suicide attempt.

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**Chapter 1:** Futility

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Severus stared at the raven-haired boy's pale face, idly noticing it's broken, and teary-eyed, crumpled composure from across the open tower. The boy in question flickered his gaze to peer at the professor with frightened orbs under the cracked glass of his golden, wire-framed spectacles. The emerald-green had all but left them now.

There was no inspiring, defiant sparks of colour to his eyes anymore –only that dull, shadowy brown they had all become used to over the course of the month.

Harry seemed momentarily shocked with Severus' appearance in the abandoned wing of the castle, it hardly ever being used because of its less than secure condition. Proof of this was the angle at which some parts of this particular building had been set –over time, age and weathering played a part in forming dangerous crevices that left any students safety to be desired.

Shifting backwards at a deliberate and steadied pace, the boy's scrawny legs met the unstructured barrier that kept him from crashing to muddied ground below.

"Harry," Severus whispered, unsure if the raven-haired boy would hear his deep, baritone voice. By the muted response, the professor gathered that it was beyond the boy's comprehension at the present moment. Studying the rest of the Harry's face, his dark, obsidian eyes came to rest on very curious angry marks that littered the bony boy's neck as if someone had tried to strangle the life out of him.

"Harry." The professor repeated once more, this time just an octave louder. He didn't even give Severus a mere glance this time, but slowly –_as if it required Harry an immense deal of energy to do so_- turned around once more to face the clear evening sky.

Severus watched the boy painfully lift himself up off the stoned floor, and onto the tower's short wall with such sickening grace and nauseating ease as if it was all by practiced, second nature. Harry stood high, and with bated breath took large gulps of air to placate his panicking nerves, before spreading his thin arms wide out into the darkened night before him. His breathing began to steady, as if he had already convinced himself that the fall would be better –that it would take whatever was clearly bothering him instantly away.

The raven-haired boy's legs faltered, if on purpose Severus did not know. An uncharacteristic gasp left past his pink lips –a flashing image of Harry's slim body meeting the dewy grass with naught but splattered crimson blood, and shattered bones ran rampant through his normally clear mind. Opening his eyes to see what had become of the tragic boy, an unconscious mess of Harry Potter lay on the limestone floor.

The professor let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.


	2. Comprehension

**Chapter 2:** Comprehension

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Harry Potter spluttered into consciousness –he was curled up uncomfortably in a tattered, forgotten armchair that was probably housed in an old professor's quarters at some point. At a premature glance, the fragile boy immediately assumed he was alone in the abandoned classroom full of broken desks and twisted chairs, until the shadowed outlines of a tall being were lifted by the sudden glimpse of silvery moonlight.

In its wake, the dark-haired man revealed himself, causing Harry to shrink back into the coarse material of the chair. It, however, did not stop the biting remark of 'I suppose you think I'm a coward,' leave his mouth.

Snape remained silent, slowly stalking his way across the wooden floor 'til he was a foot in front of the boy. "A coward, Mr. Potter, is –by the very definition- a person who lacks the courage to do or endure hazardous or unpleasant things. One who is excessively afraid of danger or pain... You were dangling from the tower's edge, which, in my books, is extremely dangerous." He took a forced gulp of breath, "Care to explain why I found in the forbidden wing this cold evening Mr. Potter?"

When Harry made no move to acknowledge that he had indeed heard the Potions Professor's words, said professor pulled out his sleek wand from the folds of his gloomy robes and quickly transfigured the solitary threadbare armchair into a seating arrangement that was more suited to accommodate two. Snape further surprised the Potter boy when he hesitantly reached over to the side and pulled the, much too slight for a sixteen-year-old, teen into his strong, muscular arms.

"Harry-" Severus need not have said anymore. Instead of stiffening, the boy crumpled in his tangle of limbs, a fit of tears and anguished cries soaking the man's dark clothes.

"Sirius! I tried- I tried so hard- and he- Sirius, de- dead!" More screams echoed into Snape's chest, an unpleasant sneer adorning his face as Harry murmured more unfathomable things of it being 'his fault', and that he'should've been the one to die'.

Severus snarled, drawing the boy nearer, rubbing circular motions into his back. The aged male's face grew sickly pale when he felt Harry's ribs through the thin, well-worn uniform –as if the boy had barely eaten anything in the past few weeks. He filed the daunting piece of information away, ready for use at a later stage. For now, it was best to deal with the issue at hand.

"Though your behavior" he spoke over the boy's loud whimpering, "was reckless Mr. Po- _Harry_, and you did endanger the lives of your friends as well as your own, you **did not** force Black to come trailing after you to the Ministry of Magic, you** did not **make the Death Eater appear, and you most certainly **did not **cast the blasted curse that caused Sirius to fall into the archway. Please believe me when I say, you** did not **kill your godfather, Harry! The mutt made those choices on his own."

Harry pressed himself tightly against the professor, desperate for the bodily contact in a direct physical attempt to squash down the hysteria that was clawing up his throat. Snape, though perturbed by sudden display of affection, thankfully, did not push the sobbing boy away.


End file.
